


We're Not Promised Tomorrow

by mangocianamarch



Series: Le Livre de L'un par La Dame Marciana [19]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 08:14:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4557279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangocianamarch/pseuds/mangocianamarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair can't go through with Morrigan's proposal, no matter who it might save for the future. He and his Warden love will have to deal with it while they still can.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Written for Day 3 of Alistair Week on Tumblr - other fate!Alistair</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Not Promised Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Took some liberties with the scene in the game where Alistair says no and the Warden accepts him saying no, because I've never let him turn it down yet and you will not BELIEVE how there are NO VIDEOS OF ALISTAIR NOT DOING THE RITUAL on YouTube :[ (Not that I blame anyone, I mean, come on, that's the _vidya gehm husbando_ we're talking about.)
> 
>  
> 
> Also, do NOT, under any circumstances, put on the song "Like I'm Gonna Lose You" by Meghan Trainor and John Legend while reading this, like I did when I was writing this because it will _hurt_.

“No,” Alistair huffs, “I _won’t_ do that. _You’re_ the one who said I needed a spine, so now I have one. And I’m not going to just do this without a better reason.”

She had anticipated this, of course. A part of her might even have _hoped_ for this response. Sathien trusts Morrigan, thinks of her as a friend, appreciates what she says she’s trying to do, but…the thought of Alistair in someone else’s bed…in _anyone_ else’s bed…

She hears herself say something, trying to justify the whole idea to Alistair, but Alistair just sighs heavily.

“Oh great,” he breathes, “Of _all_ the times to regret being a man.” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “Look, just because I have the proper…Just because I can…” He’s slightly red, and Sathien would think it cute if the situation weren’t so serious. “Look, that doesn’t make this a good idea.”

_If you love me_ , she hears herself think, _If you love me, you’ll do this…for us…_

It would be so easy to tell him that, so easy to _make_ him do it on account of his affections for her.

But Alistair is fidgeting. He’s twiddling his thumbs and watching himself do it. He can’t look her in the eye.

She remembers their first night. She remembers how he had barely been able to walk up to her, let alone start that conversation. How he had led off with a sweet, sincere confession as if in hopes of convincing her to spend the night with him. She remembers his nervousness, his slight hesitation, the note in his tone wondering if she would turn him down.

She remembers the certainty in Alistair’s voice when he finally came out with it. _I want to spend the night with you, here at the camp._ He _wanted_. That was what had mattered to them then, wasn’t it? That they both _wanted_.

But this?

Sathien lets out a heavy breath, lets herself fall onto the edge of Alistair’s bed. Her face finds itself buried in her hands, and behind her eyelids, she can see tomorrow. She sees steel and blood and bodies and darkspawn, she sees an impenetrable darkness and an archdemon roaring, daring her to make her decision.

“I’m sorry,” she says at last, “I’m sorry, Alistair. I shouldn’t have asked. It was…I knew you wouldn’t…”

_Now, you’re **accusing** him_ , she thinks to herself, _Way to make it better for everyone involved, Sathien, really, great job._

She gives herself a mental kick up the arse. “I should let you get some rest,” she states, standing on weak knees, “I’ll, er…I’ll inform Morrigan, shall I?”

Alistair’s armour clinks and chinks as he rises from his seat as well. “Sathien, I -”

“I’ll extend your gratitude to her for trying,” Sathien cuts him off, “Do me a favor and get some sleep, won’t you?”

She tries her damnedest best not to positively _hurry_ out of his room. She manages not to look back at him, but it’s a small, bittersweet victory. The next time she’ll see him is at dawn, preparing for battle, and then…well…

Morrigan is waiting by the fire when Sathien makes it back to her room. The witch’s back is turned, but Sathien suspects she already knows.

“Alistair has refused then?” Morrigan asks, quiet and somewhat intimidating.

“I’m sorry, Morrigan,” Sathien offers, “I just…After everything we’ve been through, everything we have…I couldn’t _manipulate_ him, just like that.”

“I believe my words were to _convince_ him,” Morrigan points out.

Sathien shakes her head, lets out a shuddering breath. “It’s the same thing, isn’t it?” she shoots back, “Convince, manipulate, what difference does it make if he _doesn’t want_ to do it at all?”

Now Morrigan turns, hands on her hips, eyes cold. “Alistair _does not want_ to keep you alive?” she hisses, “He _does not want_ to ensure that you both survive the battle with the Archdemon?”

“It isn’t that!” Sathien groans. How can she make her friend understand? “Alistair isn’t like you and I, this whole…deal, the very _act_ of being with someone like that _means_ something to him, it always has, and it…It doesn’t feel right to him, even _with_ our lives on the line.”

Morrigan clicks her tongue. “So he would rather deliver you or himself into sacrificial death because of _principle_?”  There is a hint of disgust in her tone, but also something akin to…disappointment? “Or is it simply because he cannot afford to put whatever loathing he has for me aside for a few hours to save the woman he loves?”

“Morrigan, _please_!” Sathien pleads, her face in her hands again, “Look, I…I would probably be lying if I said there wasn’t some modicum of truth to that, but…he just…Oh, Morrigan, you should’ve seen him, he was so _panicked_ and unnerved at the thought that...It’s more than just a night of sex with someone he doesn’t like to him, it’s what _happens_ after, it’s an illegitimate child with a rightful claim to his throne, born of a woman who is neither his wife _nor_ his lover, it’s…There’s _far_ more at stake here for him than just…just...” Sathien’s mouth is dry, and her tongue is raspy against the back of her throat. “I tried, Morrigan, I tried. He doesn’t want to, and I can’t make him. I can’t do that to him.”

When she looks up at Morrigan, she finds her with stiff shoulders and clenched fists. “‘Tis as I feared,” she says quietly, “Although, I cannot say ‘twas not expected.” Morrigan straightens herself, as if trying to regain her composure. “Very well, Warden,” she says, barely above a whisper, “If your lover cannot stand to lay with me even to _save your life_ , then I shall not stand by and watch you _throw your life away_ for a nation that will remember to thank you only until the next disaster strikes, and another noble hero is needed.”

Sathien panics. “Y-you’re leaving?” she squeaks, “You can’t! We need you! We can’t win tomorrow without you!”

The look Morrigan gives her is positively _withering_. “And have I not already offered my help? An alternative that _ensures_ you could continue to fight the good fight? No, my friend, you and your future king have already made it _abundantly_ clear that I am, in fact, _not needed_. I shall therefore take my leave, whilst I can. Whilst my anger and disappointment make it _easy_ for me to leave.”

Sathien tries to grab Morrigan’s wrist before she’s out the door, but Morrigan pulls her hand away. When she turns, however, Morrigan’s expression is not what Sathien expects.

“Do not ask me to stay, Sathien,” she says, soft and low, “Do not ask me to remain only to watch the one true friend I have had in my entire life charge to her death. I have done many things for you, was willing to make other sacrifices for you, but that, I would not be able to bare.”

Sathien opens her mouth to reply, but Morrigan doesn’t let her. In a puff of smoke, Morrigan transforms into a dog, and runs down the corridor, disappearing behind a corner. Sathien hears another faint pop, and then the fluttering of wings; Morrigan has flown out a window.

Left on her own, Sathien feels her solitude pressing in on her. The emptiness of her room is stifling, and the silence is ringing in her ears. Close to tears, she lets her feet take her to the bed, where she curls into herself, and the tears fall freely until she drifts into slumber.

Her dreams are chaotic, loud and dark. She sees monsters and dragons, blood and corpses, broken swords and halved shields, and in the midst of it all, her friends, wounded and barely alive, hardly able to stand, swinging for the fences and firing arrows in a vain attempt to keep the hoards at bay. She can only stand and watch, physically frozen, as they are cut down one by one…Wynne first, then Oghren, then Sten and her Mabari. Zevran falls next, then Leliana, and though Morrigan comes swooping in, she is caught and ripped apart. Alistair runs, being chased by a roaring darkness, until it swallows him whole and snuffs his light out, and all Sathien can do is scream until her own yell jolts her awake.

She wakes, panting and gasping, to find Alistair seated beside her on the bed, a look of utmost concern on his face. “It’s all right,” he coos gently, “You’re all right, Sathien, you’re safe.”

“I was…” Sathien says, her breathing ragged.

“Dreaming,” Alistair finishes for her, “Just dreaming. It’s still night time.”

Sathien sits upright and brings her knees up, resting her elbows on them as she rubs t her face. “So real…”

“I couldn’t sleep myself,” Alistair confides, “I was walking down the halls when I saw your door was open. You were thrashing in your sleep, I thought you might need some help when you woke up.” He reaches to the side table. “Here, have some water. Poured this while you were still asleep, but it’s not very cold anymore.”

Barely looking at Alistair, Sathien takes the cup wordlessly and gulps the contents down in one go. It helps significantly.

“Thank you,” she huffs, returning the cup to him.

“Will you be all right?” Alistair asks, and though she’s unsure, Sathien nods. Alistair puts the cup away, circles her with one arm and plants a soft kiss on the top of her head. “Try to get some rest,” he advises.

Dressed in only an undershirt and loose breeches, Alistair is warm and soothing. Sathien lets herself curl into his embrace, wanting – needing – more of it. Maybe, just maybe, if they stay like this, she might actually be able to silence her thoughts long enough to get a decent night’s sleep.

But then Alistair is pulling away, his arm sliding from around her shoulders, his small smile apologetic. “I should go,” he explains, somewhat sheepishly, “Just because I can’t get any sleep doesn’t mean you shouldn’t, so, er…But if you need anything, just…well, holler, I suppose…”

The bed shifts underneath Sathien as Alistair rises. She catches his wrist.

“Don’t go.”

She hardly hears herself say it. Alistair stops.

“Sathien, you…” he sighs, “Look, I know you’re not happy with me because of the…I mean, I’m not my favorite person in the world right now, either, and I don’t -”

But Sathien moves forward along the bed until she can kiss him quiet, her fingers still wound around his wrist, his other hand drawing him to her by the back of the neck.

“I’m not angry,” she tells him honestly, “I get it. I understand. I do. I’m not angry with you, Alistair, I just…” Her fingers slide down until they grasp Alistair’s. “I’m scared. I don’t…I don’t want to lose you, but I feel like I already have.”

With a barely audible “Maker’s breath,” Alistair pulls her to him, arms tight around her smaller frame. “You won’t lose me, you’ll never lose me,” he tells her, rocking her gently.

“The Archdemon…”

“Pardon my language, but _fuck the Archdemon_ ,” Alistair hisses, “We’ll deal with it, you and I, we’re going to show it who’s boss, and then we…Maker…”

Sathien is sure he was saying all that for his own benefit as much as hers. She clings to him, clutches at his sleeve and his shoulder, presses her ear to his chest as if bidden to memorize his heartbeat. Alistair’s hand strokes down her hair and back slowly, comfortingly, and he holds her close, as close as he possibly can, as if afraid that she’ll turn to dust the second he lets go.

“Don’t go,” Sathien says again, “Stay here, please, just…just stay with me.”

“Of course,” Alistair replies, kissing her forehead, her nose, her eyelids.

It’s not enough.

Sathien tilts her head just so, latching her lips to Alistair’s, who wastes no time in reciprocating. Sathien sighs into his mouth, her grip on him changing, but even more desperate for it. Her tongue flicks at his lip, and he groans a little. When Sathien pulls at him, shifting back and down, he goes willingly, hovering above her, lips still insistently attached to hers even as her thighs squeeze at his flanks in urgent need.

Alistair’s mouth slides down her jaw and to her throat, tongue licking at the pulse point on her neck. Sathien can only sigh and push her body upwards into him even as her hands slip under the hem of his shirt and move up, bunching the fabric of it until he has to push away only long enough to pull the shirt up over his head.

But here, arms on either side of her head, Alistair hesitates. Sathien watches his eyes search her face.

“Should we be doing this?” he asks quietly, as if asking about a secret.

“Probably not,” Sathien answers, and Alistair’s face falls momentarily, “Because I don’t think I’d be able to stop or let go of you if we _do_ do this.”

Alistair’s expression shifts to one of relief. “I think I’ll manage,” he answers with a tiny snort, dipping to kiss her again, needier this time.

Sathien’s hand moves down, maneuvers between them, fingers slipping past the ties of Alistair’s breeches.

“ _Oh_ ,” Alistair groans, lips separating from Sathien’s when her hand wraps around his half-awake cock and begins to stroke.

“Already?” Sathien chuckles, unable to keep the smugness out of her tone when she feels his flesh jump in her hand.

Alistair cocks an eyebrow at her, and presses his hips down. Her wrist brush against her starting wetness, and she whimpers.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Alistair shoots back, rolling his hips against her to do it again. Sathien’s eyelids flutter as she sighs out another moan.

“Oh, stuff you,” Sathien giggles, giving him a slight squeeze and making Alistair let out a tiny cry.

“You first,” answers Alistair, kissing her even as she laughs. Sathien retaliates by tightening her grip on him somewhat, stroking intently from base to top, her wrist twisting in _just_ the right way. Alistair actually shudders in her arms.

“Love,” Alistair breathes as Sathien reaches up with her lips to kiss at the column of his throat, “Sathien, we should… _hhhnnggg_ …We need to s- _oh_ , we need to slow down, love…”

Sathien lets her head fall back onto her pillows. “We do?” she asks, and she can’t help but sound a little disappointed. After that nightmare she had…After the _night_ she’s had…

But Alistair smiles at her, so sweetly and so beautifully, and she feels her bones turn to butter. He reaches up and strokes at her hair. “I love you,” he tells her, and there’s a vice grip around Sathien’s heart that squeezes so _very_ hard indeed, “I love you so much, and I just…We have tonight, but we’re not promised tomorrow, and I…Sathien, I want – no, I _need_ this to last. I want it to feel like forever. That must sound silly, but…I’m not saying goodbye just yet, but if I have to…Ugh, this sounds so silly…”

Sathien’s emotions are threatening to burst out of her. Teary-eyed, she reaches up and puts a plam to Alistair’s cheek. “It’s not silly at all, love,” she promises, “I don’t want to lose you, but if this is the last time…”

Alistair kisses the rest of her sentence away, sweet and slow and deep, and Sathien withdraws her hand from between his legs to hold her tight against him.

“Make love to me, Alistair,” she requests against his smiling lips when he draws back only long enough to catch his breath.

He does so, and more. She feels every last second, every movement. She hears his every moan, tastes his every breath, and when he rolls them over, still buried to the hilt inside her, and grips her waist to move her atop him, she sees in his eyes the kind of love neither of them have ever been able to put words to. When Alistair comes, it is with her name falling from his lips, his fingers all but boring into her skin, his body flushed and sweating and arching into her. When he slides his hand down between her legs, urging with her both fingers and words to come for him, to let go, her voice catches in her throat until Alistair kisses it loose, and she whimpers and mewls into his mouth, her body convulsing and shuddering on top of his, but he holds her, strokes his other hand soothingly up and down her skin to quiet her.

She wakes to find him watching her, an arm draped across her torso.

“Did you sleep?” she asks him, rubbing at her eyes.

“A bit,” Alistair replies, but Sathien suspects he means less than that, “I was…I was just thinking…Well, wondering, really…”

His fingers find hers, and Sathien is _still_ in awe at how well her hand seems to fit in his. “Wondering what?”

The sky outside is starting is still a deep shade of purple, but slowly lightening.

“Sathien, would…” Alistair starts, and he seems to be struggling, “If…If things turned out different…If today didn’t have to end the way it has to…Would you marry me?”

The question takes Sathien aback so much that she forgets to breathe for a few seconds.

“S-sorry,” Alistair stammers, drawing away from her, “It’s a stupid question, I know, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“ _Yes_.”

Alistair stops. “…What?”

Sathien turns onto her side, tries to smile through her tears. “I said yes,” she repeats, “If I could…If _we_ could…I’d…I love you, Alistair, and I-”

Again, just as he usually does, Alistair finishes her thoughts with a kiss.

The light outside turns orange. Slowly, the sound of armour and weapons fill the air and filter through the window. And much as Sathien knows that she and Alistair will have to get up out of bed and join the army, she wishes she – _they_ could stay here, where tomorrow is just a word and forever feels real.

 

~+~+~+~+~+~

 

Tomorrow arrives and turns into “today,” and then forever is shattered with a swipe of steel, a spray of blood and a blinding flash of light.

“ _Let me._ ”

How dare he? How fucking dare he ask her permission? How dare he not even let her say no? How dare he…

She realizes she’s saying all this out loud, but Alistair can no longer here her ranting at him. Alistair can no longer feel her pounding against his chest, can no longer see the tears rolling down her cheeks.

Leliana’s arms circle her from behind as Sathien cradles Alistair’s head in her lap. Her hand finds one of Alistair’s, fingers twining with his, and Sathien hates how even now, her hand seems to fit so well into his.

 

 

 

**~ END. ~**

 

 

 


End file.
